


you made a place in my heart

by bytheseas



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bytheseas/pseuds/bytheseas
Summary: David is twenty-one years old when his family loses everything and he's forced to work in the grocery store in a town that he can't wait to get out of.  He has a strict no dating policy that he is hell-bent on holding onto, no matter what.  He just needs to keep his head down and do his job and not get attached.Unfortunately, there’s a smug boy behind the coffee counter who throws a wrench in his plans.





	you made a place in my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klloydbanks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klloydbanks/gifts).



David learns two things on his first day working in a grocery store:

 

  1. The boy who runs the coffee kiosk has a terrible sense of humor
  2. He’s also extremely attractive



 

He discovers these two things at the end of a six-hour shift from hell. The turquoise vest he has been forced to wear is clashing horribly with his gucci jacket, and he just _can’t_ face the rest of the day without caffeine, so he decides to splurge.  

 

He walks over to the kiosk with a weary expression on his face.  There’s a boy behind the counter with wide brown eyes and sandy hair, and he’s cute.  Very cute. David didn’t know anyone cute actually lived in this town: it’s a pleasant surprise.  The boy is looking at him with a questioning expression on his face, and, wow, maybe David should say something now and stop staring like an idiot.

 

"Caramel macchiato, skim, with two sweeteners,"  he manages to get out. The words are well rehearsed: a standard order that he rarely deviates from.  

 

The boy smiles, and pulls a cup out of his stack, holding out his other hand to David, "So you're the new bag boy.  David, right? I'm Patrick," he lets go of David's hand after he shakes it, and starts writing something on the cup.  

 

"Yeah, I'm David,"  David watches him, curiously.  "How did you know my name?" His name tag still says ‘new hire’.

 

Patrick starts making the drink, hands deftly moving around the small space in a well practiced routine.  "Well, it would be hard not to know your name, actually. You got a _lot_ of calls today."  Patrick looks up at David and his eyes are sparkling with amusement.  "I think your name came over the loudspeaker more than the store advertisements."

 

David groans, and runs a hand through his hair,  "Yeah, my dad's been calling every hour, because he's convinced I'm going to lose this job without his constant coaching.  I mean, I get that our family needs money and everything and I'm the first one who has gotten a job but it's kind of offensive that he thinks I can't do it and it's _rude_ , frankly, that he keeps calling.  I mean, it's bagging groceries. It's not that hard.  What _is_ hard is covering up a gucci sweatshirt with polyester.”  he pulls at his vest as he trails off, disgusted.

 

Patrick watches him as he rants, and he looks like he's trying not to laugh, which is weird, because absolutely _nothing_ that David has said is funny in the slightest.  He scrawls something else on David’s cup. "Wow, yeah, that’s rough,"  he says, then after a breath, "Are you sure you want expresso? You look like you need some decaf, or something calming?  Maybe some camomile?"

 

David glares.  "I need the expresso."

 

"Okay" Patrick nods.  He finishes prepping the drink and hands it over.  He watches as David takes a cautious sip.

 

It's delicious.

 

It tastes like home, and a life that feels like a distant memory now -- a life where he wasn’t brought to the point of such desperate insanity that drove him to do crazy things like tell smug baristas his life story.

 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a second, before he has a thought that brings him back to the present. “This has expresso, right?" he eyes Patrick, warily.

 

"Nah, I actually switched it for decaf." David grimaces, and Patrick holds his hands up in mock surrender: "I'm joking."

 

" _Don't_ joke about caffeine."

 

"Noted,"  Patrick gives him a thumbs up.  "See you tomorrow, David."

 

David rolls his eyes and stalks off to the parking lot to find his father.  

 

On the drive home, he reads the note on the cup:  ‘congrats on surviving your first day, polyester and all’.  

 

If he smiles just a little at that, he’s glad Patrick isn’t there to see it.

 

\---

 

His second day brings an eight-hour shift, and a host of old people buying too much junk food and critiquing him on his bagging methods.  If there's ever a day for coffee, this is it.

 

"So, David, I learned something interesting about you today," Patrick says, as he starts making David's macchiato.  "I have to ask, how does it feel to own a town with such an illustrious title? What a thing to be known for!"

 

"Oh, I won't be known for this," David says, shaking his head, shuddering at the thought.   "This will one day be a blip on the radar of what is going to be a fabulous life." He owns a town that's called by a variation on the word "shit" and if a worse thing has ever happened to him in his twenty-one years of life, he can't remember it.  It's a hell that he plans on getting out of as soon as possible.

 

Patrick hands the drink over, and leans on the counter, "What do you want to be known for?"  

 

David takes a sip of his coffee.  "I don't know, yet. I’ve never really had to figure that out before?”  it comes out as a question because honestly, he’s really never thought about this.  He just assumed he would go into acting like his mother, or be known for doing something in fashion -- he assumed it would be arranged for him, like almost everything in his life up to this point had been.  

 

“Just take your time.  You’ll figure it out,” Patrick says, and he sounds so convincing that David almost believes him.  Patrick doesn’t even know him, so it doesn’t even count, but it is nice to hear. But then he has to follow it up with something annoying.  “But it’s going to have to be big, because being the owner of Schitt’s Creek is going to be hard to leave behind,” Patrick, says, and the smile on his face is entirely too disconcerting. “I heard Ray’s trying to take a picture of you to put under the welcome sign, and he’s _very_ excited about it.  He wants it to be life sized.  It’s going to be almost impossible to top that picture when people search your name in google images.”

 

David stares at him, in abject horror, “That’s _not_ funny.”

 

“It’s a little funny,”  Patrick’s grinning again, and it’s honestly too much because it _shouldn’t_ be attractive -- David should not be attracted to him in this moment, but he _is_.  

 

“I’m leaving,”  David picks up his cup and starts walking.

  
“Bye, David,”  Patrick calls out, and David takes a moment to flip him off before he rounds the corner.  

 

\---

 

On his third day, Patrick shakes his head when David starts to say his regular order, and holds out a drink he just made.  "Try this, instead. You're going to like it."

 

David doesn't take the drink.  "I don’t think so. I always get the same thing. I'm very happy with my order, actually,”  He adds, indignantly: “You’ve only known me for three days, anyway. How would you know what I like?”

 

Patrick puts the cup on the counter and pushes it closer to him.  "You're going to like it. If I'm wrong about this, I'll make you your usual, promise.  But I'm not going to be wrong."

 

"Mmm,"  David hums, unconvinced. "Do you talk to _all_ of your customers this way?  You do know the point is to make what _they_ want, right?"

 

Patrick just laughs as David gives in and takes a sip.  

 

It's good.

 

It's _really_ good.

 

Damn.

 

It's not all that different from his typical macchiato, but the addition of cocoa and maybe something else just brings it to the next level.  

 

He doesn't just like it: he _loves_ it.  And he would try to hide it, but the victorious expression on Patrick's face at his pleased expression isn't entirely unappealing.  

 

"I hate that you're right about this,"  he says, instead. He gets out his wallet, but Patrick shakes his head.

 

"On the house.  It's a Patrick Brewer original, so I don't even know how to put a price on it. It might be priceless."

 

"I wouldn’t go _that_ far,"  David says, “but thanks.”  He gives a little wave as he walks towards the door, and if he thinks of Patrick’s smile more than once on the way home, no one would ever know.

 

\---

 

"So he made up the perfect drink, based on what he thought you would like -- that's so _sweet_.  Is he cute?  It would be sad if he was unfortunate looking.”

 

Alexis and David are sitting at the table in their parents room.  Moira is bustling back and forth, arranging her wigs and fretting about how the humidity is ruining their volume, and then fretting some more about how _no one is listening to her in her time of crisis_.  Alexis is painting David’s nails black,  with nail polish he is pretty sure she swiped from the general store on her way home from school, but he isn't about to ask.  They've been doing this thing where they actually talk to each other about their days, sometimes. It's kind of nice.

 

"Yeah, he's cute,"  He rolls his eyes when Alexis gives him a _look_.  "No.  I'm not going there.  He's annoying," he looks down and away, and mutters the next words quietly so their mother won't hear "and after Sebastian I don't know if I ever will."  

 

He had dated Sebastian for almost year, but it had taken longer to get over him.  He was barely past his teens, and he had wasted years of his life on someone who he thought was good for him. David had decided after that, that dating wasn’t going to be a thing for him.  The idea of feeling that kind of pain twice in a lifetime wasn’t worth the risk.

 

David had never been a risk taker.

 

"You know, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing if you did go there, though," Alexis pats his hand and puts the cap back on the nail polish. "Never is a long time, and this town is boring as hell.  I think we could both use some fun. Did I tell you about that possibly homeless guy I met during community service yesterday? He was actually kind of hot."

 

She chatters on and the original subject is thankfully forgotten.    

 

\---

 

Two weeks into his job marks the first day that his father forgets to pick him up, and honestly David is surprised that it didn't happen sooner.   He holds his phone to his ear, tapping his free fingers on the curb he's sitting on with an anxious staccato. The all-too-familiar sound of his dad's answering message hits his ears for what feels like the millionth time.  

 

"Hi, this is Johnny Rose, of Rose Video.  Leave a message and a number and I will have my assistant return your call as soon as possible."

 

He sighs in frustration as he pulls the phone away from his ear and drops it on the sidewalk.  It's been three hours. What could his dad possibly be doing? He’s not working. It's been a month in this hellish town and David is still the only one with a job.

 

Because the universe likes to bask in his misfortunes, it’s this moment, when he has his head in his hands, that Patrick walks out the front door of the store and over to where David is sitting.  Patrick stands in front of him, looking down.

 

"Didn't your shift end a couple hours ago?"

 

David looks up, shielding his face from the sun with one hand so he can actually see Patrick.  It’s hot and he’s sweating and the world is too cruel. "It hasn't been that long," he lies. "I have a ride coming."

 

He doesn’t need jokes in this moment, and he really doesn’t need pity.

 

"Okay,"  Patrick shifts on his feet and looks down at him, again.  "Any chance you want a ride from me? Just so you don't have to wait around?"

 

David shakes his head.  "I'm good."

 

Patrick doesn't leave.  "You sure? The motel is on my way home -- it's not out of my way."

 

"Okay, thanks,"  David slowly says, giving in.  He stands up and follows Patrick to his car.  He sits there in silence, until they're on the road.  David has one hand out of the open window, and he watches as it dips up and down in the wind.  "Do you ever feel like you're the last person your family thinks about?"

 

Patrick glances at him, briefly taking his eyes off of the road.  "Can't say that I ever feel like that. My family's really close. We're all really involved in each others lives -- my cousins and my aunts and uncles as well as parents and siblings all show up for everything."  

 

"Oh," David nods, and stares back out the window.  He kind of hates himself for even asking the question, and frankly he doesn't know why he did.  He should have known Patrick would have a nice, normal family.

 

"But they forget things sometimes, too,"  Patrick adds, awkwardly, before changing the subject, for which David is extremely thankful.  

 

Patrick brings it up again, though, once they're parked in front of the Motel.  "David, you deserve much more than being the last person people think about. You're important."

 

He's so earnest and he's looking at David like it's _so_ important to him that David understands this, and David just nods a few times, awkwardly.  There's a pull in his chest that feels something like warmth, and there’s still that lingering attraction, but he pushes it all down.

 

"Thanks for the ride,"  he says, and he doesn't look back after he closes the car door.  

  


\---

 

Somehow, Patrick dropping David off on his way home becomes a pattern.  

 

Sometimes Patrick heads right home, but other times they hang out for a while.  The first time it happened, Patrick invited himself: following David inside once he begrudgingly agreed and ignoring his protests about how obnoxious and embarrassing his family is.  After that, the invite became a given. If Stevie wasn’t busy helping her aunt at the front desk of the hotel, she joined them. They watched sitcoms on the old tv in David and Alexis's room, walked around town, or sat in a booth in Cafe Tropical, mocking the fellow occupants in whispers under their breath.  

 

Having friends feels strange and odd to David, but in a warm kind of way.  

 

One afternoon the three of them are laying on David's bed, and it's really not big enough so it should be uncomfortable, but Patrick's pressed close into David’s side and it feel nice.  He feels Patrick laughing at something before he hears it, and he looks over and Patrick meets his gaze and David can't bring himself to look away for a moment, for whatever reason. His gaze is broken when Patrick sits up, patting David’s arm and scooting off the end of the bed.  “Alright, guys, I have babysitting duty tonight so I need to roll. Try not to die of boredom without me.”

 

“I think we’ll manage,”  Stevie says, and David waves dismissively and rolls his eyes for good measure.

 

It's after Patrick leaves that Stevie won't stop staring at him, so he finally stares back.  " _What_?"

 

"He _likes_ you."

 

David looks back towards the tv.  "No he doesn't."

 

Stevie ignores him.  "He likes you, and _you_ like him."

 

The thing is, he does, but he’s not about to say it: he doesn’t like to admit it even to himself.  But the idea that Patrick likes him is _worse_ , because himself he can ignore.  The feelings of another person are unpredictable and out of his control.

 

Sometimes their banter feels a lot like flirting, but it’s not flirting -- David isn’t leading anyone on.  He’s not getting attached. This is all under control.

 

"You're reading too much into things," he says, dismissively.  

 

"Think what you like,"  she responds, entirely too confidently.  "But I'm right."

 

\---

 

She _was_ right.

 

One afternoon when Patrick is dropping David off, he turns to him.  "I can't stay to hang out today, but I want to ask you something," he takes a breath.  "David, do you want to go out sometime?” He pauses, and smiles nervously, and it’s weird, because Patrick is never nervous. “I’ve never asked a guy out before, but we have fun and you’re really cute, and, what do you say?"  

 

David just stares back at him.  He feels like his heart is beating out of his chest.  Stevie was right. He didn’t see it before, but she was right.  Oh, god. His heart, his every instinct is screaming at him to say 'yes'.  But he can't help but remember the last time he said yes to such a thing, and how things went horribly wrong.  

 

Sebastian had seemed so nice, too.  

 

(He knows, somewhere deep down, that comparing the two of them isn’t fair or logical, but he can’t seem to help himself.)

 

It could go the other way, too:  he could be the one that hurts Patrick, somewhere down the line.  Patrick doesn’t deserve that.

 

Somewhere along the way this got out of hand, and away from him.  It's time to shut it down. Patrick is watching him, all earnest and beautiful, but it's better this way.  It’s better for both of them.

 

"No thanks,"  he says, and he watches as Patrick's face falls, and then, as he tries to pull himself together.

 

"Oh, okay then,"  Patrick's voice is weak.  

 

"Thanks anyway, though,"  David says, awkwardly, feeling for all the world like he would like to disappear in this moment.

 

"Yeah, sure,"  Patrick lets out a shaky breath, then looks back over, and seems to steel himself for something.  "I’m not trying to push it or anything, but -- I know we got off to a rocky start those first couple of days, but then we became friends and -- I guess I misread things, but I-I thought maybe you liked me back."

 

"Yeah, you um, you misread things,"  David responds, quietly, and looks anywhere but at Patrick.  He glances over briefly because he can’t help it and Patrick's eyes are a little wet, and yeah, David hates himself.  He reaches for the door, and opens it, fighting the desire to either turn and take it all back, or start running wildly to anywhere far from here.  

 

"Okay.  Goodnight, David."

 

David gets out of the car, feeling sick.  "Goodnight, Patrick."

  


\---

 

One week later finds him laying on his bed in the motel room with Stevie.   _Friends_ is playing, but he's barely watching.  Ross and Rachel are getting back together again and he couldn't care less.

 

Joey was better for her, anyway.

 

Stevie turns off the tv.  She sits up on the bed, looking down at him.  "David, if you don't stop moping I'm going to have to stop hanging out with you.  You’re really bringing me down."

 

David sits up so he’s facing her, looking indignant.  "I'm not moping."

 

"You _are_ moping.” Stevie lets out a long-suffering sigh.  “You keep saying you don't miss him, but you do. I still don’t understand why you said no.”

 

He sighs, and pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them closer.  “Stevie, I explained this. I can't do it. I can’t take the risk. I can’t get hurt like that, not again."

 

"Well, you're hurting right now, and he's hurting.  So I fail to see how this plan is working."

 

"It's just the way things need to be,"  he runs a hand through his hair, and he can’t even bring himself to care that he’s messed up what he spent an hour styling.  “It’s better this way.”

 

Stevie sits up taller and smooths back her hair.  She looks him full in the face, and he can't look away.  "Okay.  I'm going to be that best friend in a rom-com for a minute, and you're not allowed to make fun of me for it, because I'm trying to help you and this is supposedly what best friends do," she gives him a pointed look, and he rolls his eyes but nods his agreement.  She continues: "I think we've both been hurt enough times to know that things don't always work out -- most of the time, they don't. But there's a boy out there who likes you and you like him back, and yeah, sometimes he drives you crazy, which I deeply enjoy, by the way -- but he also makes you laugh and smile like an idiot.  He's _good_ for you.  This could be your chance at something good. I think you owe it to yourself to find out which way it ends, without deciding how things will go and not even trying," At that, she smacks his leg and gets up off the bed, heading towards the door. "Let me know once you get your head out of your ass and decide what you're going to do."

 

David flops back onto the bed and examines the ceiling once she’s gone.  She’s right. The plan isn’t working. He's been holding onto it so tightly, that he lost all sense of reason.  He's hurting himself in an attempt to do just the opposite.  And in the process, he's been hurting someone else. 

 

Maybe he should take this chance that the universe seems to be holding out to him: the chance to lean into something that could be beautiful and see what happens.

 

He decides, then, that he’s going to try.  The only thing is, he’s just not sure if Patrick will give him another chance.

 

\---

 

It’s a few days later when he decides to take a chance.  He stares at the text from his dad that just lit up his phone: ‘ _took Alexis to get a haircut and she’s getting highlights.  It will be a few hours before I can get you_ ’. Typical.

 

David pockets his phone and walks over to the coffee kiosk, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Patrick can you give me a ride home?” He tries for a casual tone but the words sound awkward to his ears.

 

It has been a while. He hasn’t talked to Patrick since that day in the car. Theoretically they could still be friends right now. There was no fight. But they have been avoiding each other.

 

Patrick looks up, surprised.  David kind of forgot how breathtaking Patrick is, and it hits him how much he’s missed him.  His hair has gotten just a bit longer and it is beginning to curl. His blue shirt is just slightly wrinkled, like maybe he forgot to iron it.  

 

There’s something sad in Patrick’s expression but he hides it, quickly behind a nod.  “Oh, um, okay. Yeah, no problem.”

 

The ride home is mostly silent other than a few jokes and little comments about the skills (or lack thereof) of the other drivers.  Silence used to fall comfortably between them, but now it feels awkward and oppressive.

 

It’s the worst.

 

David wants to make things right but he doesn’t know where to start.  

 

Patrick turns to David after he parks.  “Well, have a good night, David.”

 

He’s not even finished uttering the last word before David cuts him off.  “Patrick, I have to tell you something,” he has all of Patrick’s attention at that -- there’s a curious look on his handsome face, and it pushes David forward, because at least Patrick seems willing to listen.  “Patrick, I like you. I really like you.”

 

“But you-” Patrick’s words come out fast and his forehead is wrinkled with confusion.  “But I asked you out, and you told me-”

 

“I know,”  David looks away for a moment, off somewhere else, but then he catches Patrick’s gaze again because doing so feels important.  “I was scared. A couple of years ago someone who I loved hurt me very badly, and I promised myself I wouldn't do that again: I wouldn't care about someone and like them that much,"  He falls silent, because fuck, it's hard to put this into words -- harder than he thought, but Patrick is watching him intently and he still seems to be listening, and he deserves to hear it.  "Historically, letting myself feel things and open up to people hasn't gone well for me. But then I met you and you were beautiful and annoying and wonderful and it was like I didn't have a choice but to feel things.  I thought I could just ignore it, because it was one sided, but then you asked me out. I wanted to say yes. I should have said yes. I ended up hurting both of us in my attempt not to get hurt myself, and I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I messed things up," He takes a breath, taking a break from the mad dash of words. “Fuck, I’m really not good at this. Patrick, you’re one of the most beautiful, incredible people I’ve ever met. Do you think you could forgive me and go out with me sometime?”

 

Patrick’s voice is strangely thick when he responds, after a beat: “Can we get out of the car?”

 

“Oh, okay,” David says.  It’s not a yes so he feels like there’s a no coming.   He’s not sure why they have to be out of the car for Patrick to give him the rejection he surely deserves.  

 

Patrick walks around to his side of the car, until he’s just in front of him.  He places a hand gently on one of David’s cheeks. He smiles at him for a moment, and then leans in and kisses him.  David kind of wants to cry because it’s so gentle and sweet but then Patrick moves closer and deepens the kiss, and _moans_ into it.  There’s a knee between David’s legs and suddenly no space between them, and Patrick’s all he can smell and feel, which is more than okay and very much perfect.  

 

When they break apart for air,  they move apart, just a little, realizing where they are and who could walk by at any moment.  David holds on to one of Patrick’s hands, folding their fingers together. “This does mean you’ll go out with me, right?”

 

Patrick smiles, and cocks his head to the side, as if weighing his options  “I guess I’ll consider it,” and then he laughs when David frowns and pulls his hand away and it sounds so happy and free.  He peppers kisses over David’s face. “I’m sorry! Yes. _Yes_.”

 

Maybe Stevie’s right, David thinks, as he closes the space between them once more: maybe this can be good.  Perhaps the universe is giving him a chance at something good, now that he’s finally leaning into what it has to offer.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr! @davidrosed


End file.
